Like Ray
by Lassroyale
Summary: When Ray is killed in combat, his consciousness is transferred to a clone – except his clone has matured into a female form. Ray has to learn how to live in a woman's body, even though he still defines as male. Genderfuck, Ray/Lilley, Explicit


**A/N:** **GK GENDERFUCK**

Ray doesn't identify as female, even though he has a woman's body. So from his POV, when he thinks of himself it's in male terms. ie: "His breasts, his perky tits" Etc.

"**Like Ray****"**

Ray as a girl, wasn't really all that different from Ray as a boy. Certainly he didn't fucking _identify_ as different, or whatever the government psychologist had stressed to him – her? – over and over about gender identification. He was still fucking Ray Person. Him. He. _Ray_.

He still went to scratch his balls only to remember that he no longer had balls, because he now had a pussy - a bona fide fucking _pussy_. The first time he'd forgotten and had carelessly taken his shirt off on base, he thought he was going to start a riot because oh yeah, he now had tits. Nice ones, sure, but fucking _tits_. He had curvier hips and a narrow waist, and _jesus fuck_, he even bled between his legs once a month. (How chicks ever got used to shoving dry cotton into their bodies, he didn't know. It was pretty motherfucking admirable in his book, because Ray damn well hated it.)

Still, Ray was Ray. He dipped, he drank more than he should, he spewed inappropriate filth at inappropriate times, and he was pretty misogynistic on the best of days. He still loved sucking cock and he still wanted to fuck men – gay men, not straight men who wanted trim. He wanted men who wanted _him_; the Ray that used to have a penis. Ray was Ray, and Ray would continue to be Ray, because inside his body that now housed ovaries and a uterus, he was simply Ray-fucking-Person. He wasn't girl-Ray, or Ray-with-tits, or fucking Rayanna; he was _just Ray_.

Of course try telling that to the rest of the fucking world.

He couldn't help that his real body – his male body – had been killed in combat. He couldn't help that his corpse had been sent to some government facility that for all intents and purposes, didn't exist. He couldn't help that he'd somehow been volunteered for some highly classified government experiment, to see if they could clone a soldier and transfer their consciousness into a new body.

He couldn't help that it actually fucking _worked_.

Of course, nobody had expected Ray's clone to develop into a female form. And when he'd woken up, nine months later in a fully formed woman's body, screaming hoarsely about contact to his three, he'd been rather surprised to say the least. To be honest, the various doctors and scientists on the project seemed just as surprised as him. Surprised but delighted - woo-fucking-hoo. It worked, they'd transferred Ray's mind into a new body, thus "saving his life" as they put it, and oh, real sorry about the pussy and tits.

It'd taken time for Ray to get used to it, to even be able to wrap his head around the fact that he now had breasts and peed sitting down; to get used to the fact that when people looked at him, they saw a woman instead of a man. People on the street greeted Ray with a smile and called him "Miss" and "Ma'am" – Ray really hated being called ma'am – and the occasional fucktard guy would hit on him and try to grab his ass.

And that was mostly fine, though the first time some trucker in a bar had fondled him, Ray had beaten his face in until he'd had to be pulled off by Poke and Brad. Even then he'd been furious, though mostly at himself because he'd been crying the whole time he was beating the guy's face into a bloody pulp. He'd shook for a good hour afterward, adrenaline and the stark reality that yes, this was now his life, finally sinking in.

This was _him_. Ray was a woman. Except...except he just fucking _wasn__'__t_.

To be honest, being in a woman's body scared Ray, though not for the reasons that most people would have guessed. It scared him because he thought that everybody he'd come to think of as brothers – his comrades, people that he knew he could rely on – would leave him. He thought that they would write him off, see him as something _less than_. And the thought that he would lose his identity in the Corps, lose everything he'd earned as a Recon Marine was fucking terrifying.

Ray was really fucking surprised then, when all of Bravo Company stuck by him and supported him. He wasn't treated like a princess. Nobody catered to him. They still called him a whiskey tango cocksmoking hick to his face. They still treated him like a brother. Ray knew that nobody would ever know how grateful he is for that.

Ray, however, fully expected that Lilley would leave him.

After all, Ray wasn't in the body that Lilley had been fucking on a regular basis for a little over a year now. There was no cock for him to suck; there was no cock for him to be fucked by. Except, like the rest, Lilley stood beside him. He stayed with him, even though another person would have gotten the fuck out of dodge at the first mention of a menstrual cycle.

Ray still wasn't sure how to show his gratitude for that; he still wasn't sure how to express how much he fucking loved Lilley for not treating him any differently, for still calling him 'brah' and 'dude' in bed. He wasn't sure how to show his appreciation for the fact that Lilley didn't touch him like he'd break or try to be any gentler with him than he was before. He wasn't sure how to give his thanks for the fact that Lilley still treated him like the same old Ray.

Sure, maybe Lilley held his hand a little more in public and sometimes asked him to dress up in some ridiculously skimpy French Maid costume, but Ray would do it for him because – and this still blew his fucking mind – Lilley loved _Ray_, not his body. He wanted Ray, every single part: he, him, she, her.

And Ray couldn't really argue with _that_.

**-VVV-**

Lilley and Ray had always fucked roughly. They'd always fucked like they were in the middle of battle, neither of them satisfied until their skin was painted in a patchwork of bruises, and their flesh layered with a latticework of scratches. They weren't satisfied unless there was a little blood on the sheets.

Ray figured that after the constant threat of death in Iraq, they both needed that edge of violence mixed in with their sex in order to come. They craved that shaky line that vacillated between pleasure and pain. And he and Lilley had always been so fucking _good_together.

The only thing that had changed about _that_, was the fact that Lilley was more apt to be on the receiving end of a dirty look or twelve when they went out in public, bruises decorating Ray's wrists, his legs, maybe his throat, and cuts and scratches flared across Lilley's arms and back like defense wounds.

Ray thought it was fucking hilarious when a nice couple would stop him - or her, as they saw it - and ask him if everything was okay, lowering their voices conspiratorially like Lilley was going to Hulk-rage and start slapping Ray around in public. Ray liked to tell people that he was clumsy and that he'd run into a door or that he'd fallen down a flight of stairs. It was funny, even if Lilley was the one who bore the brunt of it.

Still the sex was, and continued to be, fucking awesome.

**-VVV-**

Ray moaned, high and breathy as Lilley dragged the tip of the KA-BAR across his breasts and raising a thin line of red; no more than a scratch. Lilley sucked one of Ray's nipples into his mouth and rolled it between his lips, running the blade down Ray's side, over his ribs, pressing in harder and drawing out a dot of blood. A noise, eager and demanding, was yanked up Ray's throat as Lilley pressed the flat of the blade carefully against the slick folds between Ray's legs. Lilley laughed at his growl of impatience, nuzzling at Ray's shoulder with his nose and holding him down with a hand splayed wide across his belly.

Ray had never been the most patient person in bed, and right then his cunt was wet and aching for Lilley to be inside of him, so he grabbed Lilley's wrist and brought the KA-BAR to his throat, lifting his chin as he pressed the edge of the blade to his skin. He hissed, a sharp feminine sound, when the knife nicked him. It was no more than the sort of cut Ray used to get shaving his face, but the pinch of pain made his pussy even wetter. Ray released Lilley's wrist and reached between his legs, sinking two fingers into the moist heat of his cunt, grinning impudently when Lilley's eyes went dark.

"Fuck brah," Lilley swore, his grip tightening on the handle of the KA-BAR as he watched Ray fuck his fingers into his pussy, "that's fucking hot." Lilley rested point the knife lightly against the hollow of Ray's throat as he reached down and wrapped his hand around Ray's wrist, and guided his fingers in and out of Ray's cunt, before adding one of his own.

Ray arched his back, thighs falling open as he spread his legs wide and opened himself up for Lilley as much as he could. Lilley pushed the tip of the blade against the soft dip of Ray's throat, before flicking it away quickly and leaving a small cut in his skin. Ray felt pleasure shoot between his thighs and he dug his nails into the hard muscle of Lilley's bicep, deep enough to gouge. "Motherfucker," Ray swore, his breath hitching when Lilley safely set aside the KA-BAR and smacked one of his breasts with an open palm, all the while continue to guide Ray's fingers in and out of his own body.

Lilley kissed Ray's throat and licked at the droplets of blood oozing from the wound he'd made, before tugging Ray's hand from between his legs to push it above his head. He pinned it there, his fingers gripped his wrist hard enough to bruise, and settled between Ray's thighs. "It's about time, you limp-dick motherfucker," Ray muttered, gasping when Lilley slid the head of cock into his pussy, teasingly.

"Fuck you're wet," Lilley groaned roughly into his ear, pushing forward into Ray's tight heat until he was seated fully.

There was always an odd moment of fullness for Ray when Lilley first entered him, the throb of his cunt so fucking tight around Lilley's girth, the sensation so different, so foreign and yet so perfect, that sometimes it overwhelmed him. The first few times they'd had sex, Ray had actually cried, unable to handle the feeling of Lilley inside of him in such a new and deeply personal way.

He eventually got used to it, got used to the way Lilley's cock felt sliding in and out of his cunt, got used to the way his cunt was sore after a good hard fucking. It didn't take long for him to want it, craving the feel of Lilley as he held open his slick folds with his fingers and pushed his big cock inside. He learned to love the feel of Lilley held tight between his thighs, hips bracketed by his knees.

Ray arched his hips off the bed and clamped his legs around Lilley's waist, pulling him deeper into him and issuing a little, "Ah!" of surprise when Lilley placed his hands beneath Ray's shoulders and rolled them so that Ray was on top. Ray moaned as he lifted up and then sunk back down on Lilley's cock, impaling himself on Lilley's length, the wetness of his pussy providing a slick, easy passage.

"That's it," Lilley urged, resting his hands on Ray's hips as he fucked himself on Lilley's cock. Lilley pressed his thumb against Ray's clit and Ray rocked his hips forward, seeking the friction as Lilley rubbed roughly, almost making Ray cry out with too much sensation.

"You lazy bitch," Ray panted, helpless noises pulled from his throat as he rode Lilley's cock, hands braced on Lilley's knees, which were bent behind him. "Making me do all the hard work."

Lilley pressed his head back into the pillows and lifted his hips, fucking up into Ray's cunt every time Ray slid down his cock. "We can stop if ya want," Lilley managed, moaning when Ray reached across his body and snatched up the KA-BAR. He dragged the tip down Lilley's chest, cutting deep enough to leave a small ribbon of blood in its wake. "Fuuuck," Lilley grunted, sucking a sharp breath through his teeth when Ray traced the point of the knife over the lines of abs.

"If you even try to stop me from fucking myself silly on your fat cock, I swear I will go Lorena Bobitt on your ass," Ray threatened on a breathy moan.

He tossed his hair and didn't even fight back when Lilley wrenched the knife from his grip. Ray's lids fell heavily over his eyes and he bit down on his plump bottom lip, as Lilley turned the KA-BAR towards him and trailed the blade down between his breasts to his navel. Ray could feel his orgasm coiling, could feel the wetness and the heat build and build between his thighs, and when Lilley scraped the sharp edge of the knife under the swell of his left breast, Ray came with a scream that was sure to convince the neighbors that once again Ray was getting murdered instead of well fucked.

Ray felt his cunt clamp down around Lilley's cock as he came, stiffening as his orgasm pulsed through him in waves, riding it out, vaguely aware as Lilley shouted something, pumping up into his pussy a few times before coming himself. Ray shivered and moaned as he felt Lilley's come splash hot and wet inside of him, the sensation so unique to him still, that he shuddered and nearly came again. Ray breathed heavily and started to collapse forward onto Lilley's chest, nearly impaling himself on the KA-BAR in the process.

"You and your fucking knife," Ray sneered, taking the blade out of Lilley's slack hand and setting carefully on the nightstand.

Lilley grinned at Ray, cocky and sure, grunting when Ray slid off his softening cock and stretched out along his side. Ray grinned back when Lilley turned and dropped an arm over his thin waist, kissing him when Ray pressed their foreheads together. Ray had always loved the plushness of Lilley's mouth; his own was now smaller, his lips fuller and more pouty, but Lilley had told him after the first time they'd kissed with Ray as a woman, that he tasted the same as always.

"How do I taste?" Ray asked. He always asked.

Lilley smiled, pressed a kiss to the corner of Ray's mouth, and answered as he always did. "Like you," Lilley said. "Like Ray."

(The End.)


End file.
